Chapter Eighteen #3
Lea grinned so wide she looked like a Cheshire cat. “I’m Lea.”
“Rowan told me you were a good friend.”
“I am. The best. Hey, if you can get her to listen at all, especially in bed, convince her to get back on the board. Rowan’s more stubborn than Bagel. That means it’s bad.”
“Lea!” she groaned.
Everett laughed. “Not sure I have any sway, but everyone says she’s special to watch.” His gaze swiveled to meet hers head-on. “I’d love to see her fly.”
Lea whistled. “Dayum, there is some serious heat going on, and I do not mean a surf set.”
“Please go away,” Rowan whispered. “I’m begging you.”
Her friend cackled with laughter. “Fine, I’m going. Hope to see you around, Everett.”
“Me, too.” His lip quirked when she left. “I guess our secret relationship isn’t so secret?”
“I’m sorry. No one will say anything to Kelsey.”
“I know, it’s okay.” His gaze heated. “I don’t care if anyone else knows.”
“Keep looking at me like that and it will be front-page news.”
He laughed again, and her heart did a flip.
She’d been a bit giddy this week, and loved that he’d surprised them at Kelsey’s lesson.
The girl had shown off with pride. On cue, Kelsey raced up the beach to them.
“I’m starving!” she announced. Skin flushed, a towel thrown over her shoulders, barefoot and tan, she looked like she was part of this place, where a few weeks before she’d been a stranger.
Everett tugged on her braid. “Go at it. Be adventurous.”
“Any bone marrow?” she teased, gathering a plate and utensils.
“No, but I can get you some,” Rowan joked. Kelsey made a face. “On a serious note, I think you’re ready for the next step.”
The girl stilled, blue eyes wide. “Bottom turns?” she whispered.
Rowan laughed. “Yep. You did some small ones at Threes, but it’s time for you to really dig in. And for that we go to North Shore.”
She gave a shriek. Everett glanced back and forth with a frown. “What’s a bottom turn?”
“I told you when we went to dinner—OMG, Dad, it’s fire!
It’s the beginning basic foundation of real surfing!
It’s what you do right after you drop in on the wave—you bend your knees, shift your weight, and carve up the face to build speed.
Rowan says it’s where all your power comes from.
If you mess it up, the whole ride’s a disaster.
But if you nail it”—she mimed turning an invisible board, hair flying into her face—“you feel it. Like you’re flying and the ocean’s letting you borrow her strength for a second. ”
A rush of emotion hit. Hearing Kelsey explain it with such zeal broke down the walls she’d built to keep herself together. How had this father and daughter team exploded into her life to rip away all her barriers?
And why did it feel so right?
Everett’s face softened, as if caught in a cherished memory. “Sounds like your bottom turn isn’t just about surfing,” he said quietly. “Sounds like it’s about life.”
Goose bumps riddled Rowan’s skin, but Kelsey only rolled her eyes. “That’s such a dad thing to say.” She heard her name called and took off with her plate, leaving them alone again.
Everett blinked. “Thought it was profound.”
She patted his arm. “It was. You’re getting better with the ocean analogies.”
“Why won’t you get back on the board?”
Rowan stilled. Curiosity filled his dark eyes. The direct question threw her off-kilter, making her hesitate. “Lots of reasons.”
He waited her out. She didn’t break; not sure she was ready. But his voice was gentle and encouraged her to open up; promised she’d be safe, even in the sunlight. “What’s one, sweetheart?”
The endearment melted her. She blew out a breath.
“It was a bad wipeout. I still have nightmares about it, which pisses me off.” A ghost of a smile skated across his lips.
“I went into the competition wanting to beat Lea, but mostly, I wanted to show my father it had all been worth it. All of the hours of practice and training and hard work. All of his sacrifices to give me this life I loved. I’d just lost him.
Looking back, I realize my head wasn’t in the game—I was too torn up with grief and didn’t judge the wave right. ”
“There’s nothing you could do that wouldn’t make your father proud. I can tell that from the photos and your stories and the way you speak about him. I bet he would want you to try again.”
“Yeah, that’s what Lea and Tino say. What everyone says. But it’s easier to just stay landlocked and keep that part of my life and career in memory mode.”
“I think you’re lying to yourself.” She jerked back, eyes hot, but he touched her cheek with such tenderness, her temper cooled.
“I don’t blame you. What you loved is now tangled up in what you grieve.
I just believe inside, you’re a warrior, and you won’t let that stop you from doing something you were meant for. ”
Stunned at the depth of his words and his touch, she could only stare back as her insides shifted and made more room for him. Everything softened with need, and all she wanted was to step into his arms and let him hold her.
The moment was broken when Kelsey rushed up beside her. Everett immediately dropped his hand. “Rowan. Can I talk to you?”
The girl looked pale, like something had freaked her out. “Sure. Be right back,” she said cheerfully. No reason to worry Everett until she found out what Kelsey wanted. “What’s up? You okay?” she asked in a low voice.
Kelsey’s gaze swept around the people, the lights, and open beach. She shook her head. “Can we go into the bathroom?” She tilted her chin toward the shop.
“Yeah. Come on.”
She let Kelsey lead, cutting through the crowd and entering the surf shop.
They slipped behind the counter, through the racks of shirts and boards.
The air smelled like wax, sunscreen, and the citrus cleaner they used on the floor.
Rowan knew every dent and sticker on the bathroom door. She pushed it with her hip.
Inside, the hum of the fan filled the tight room. The mirror had a faded Shaka sticker in the corner.
Kelsey stood there, hands fisted at her sides, breathing shallow. Rowan stayed calm. “Talk to me.”
Kelsey’s chin trembled. “I think I’m bleeding.” She swallowed. “Like . . . a lot. I don’t know. I felt this wetness and thought it was just water, and now the towel is showing some blood.” Color flooded back into her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do.”
Rowan let her own shoulders drop an inch. This she could handle. “All right. You’re okay. It’s normal.” She went to the little cabinet under the sink. She kept a box in there for surf students and tourists who got blindsided. “You got your period. First time?”
Kelsey nodded, eyes huge.
“It’s a good thing,” Rowan said, her voice easy.
“It means your body’s doing what it’s supposed to.
” She pulled out a pack of small waterproof pads and a small Ziploc with wipes and spare underwear she kept for emergencies.
She put them on the sink like she was setting out tools.
“We’ll figure it out. Do you want me to talk you through it, or do you want space? ”
Kelsey chewed her lower lip. Her blue braces flashed. “Can you stay?”
“Of course.” Rowan washed her hands. She kept her tone light to show there was nothing to be embarrassed about, and nothing to hide.
“Open the pad. Stick it in your underwear. The sticky side goes on the fabric. They’re waterproof so you can go back in the water if you want.
” She handed over the wipes. “Clean up with these. I can wash the towel later, and I’ve got a hoodie you can tie around your waist after. No one will see anything.”
Kelsey sniffed. “I think I got some on my bathing suit.”
“It happens,” Rowan said. “Hand them to me so I can wash them in the sink. I’ll grab you a pair of board shorts if you want.”
Kelsey nodded again and stepped into the stall. Rowan kept up a line of calm talk. “First time can be weird. You might feel crampy. I’ve got ibuprofen in my bag. You might be hungrier than usual, so you can eat all the cookies. Get what you need.”
“Okay. Here’s my bottoms.”
Rowan took them and turned on the cold water.
The spots of blood came out easily with the soap.
“There’s just a little, Kels, and they’re all clean.
You can use the pad right on this, let me just dry them a bit.
” She wrung out the fabric, then hit the automatic dryer to take most of the wet out.
“Here, try that. The pad should still stick. Let me grab something—I’ll be right back. ”
“Thanks.” She grabbed an XS soft blue hoodie from the shelf, ripped off the price tag, and went back in. The pad crinkled. The toilet flushed. When Kelsey came out of the stall, her eyes were wet. Rowan held it out to her and Kelsey tied it around her hips with jerky hands.
Then her face shifted. Panic cracked and grief slid into its place. “My mom should be here for this,” she blurted, small and sharp. “It’s supposed to be . . . she should be here.”
Rowan’s chest pulled tight. She remembered the fluorescent bathroom at her cousin’s place.
The way nobody knew where the extra pads were.
The way her aunt had been out and her uncle had knocked on the door and asked, through too much space, if everything was okay.
The way she had decided to be small about it.
She sat on the closed toilet, bringing herself level with Kelsey. The fan hummed. “I know,” she said. She kept her voice low. “My mom did the same thing. Left when I was young. Missed it all.”
Kelsey’s eyes snapped to her.
“I used to think it was because I wasn’t enough,” Rowan said. She let the truth land between them without regret. “That if I’d been more . . . something . . . she would have stayed.”